Liquefied And Purified!

Patsy, Bec and I are trying to lose weight. We're not doing anything weird, or deprivational; quite the contrary, just your good old run of the mill Weight Watchers......and we've all been doing pretty well actually.

Last night was Thursday. As I've said in previous posts, they come to my house every Thursday night for dinner and conversation, and whatever reality show is running at the moment. Sometimes they cook and sometimes I cook. Last night was my turn. It was a simple little dish from the new W/W cookbook that Bec tried a few weeks ago and we liked.

Let me set the scene. After dinner Jacob and Herman headed up the stairs. Two and a half year old Jacob loves to take a bath in our colossal bathtub, and watch a movie, or draw and cut construction paper, or play the guitar and sing, or all of the above. All was well in his world. Patsy and I were in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner and Bec, being the alpha female she is, was in her place of prominence on the sofa.

I began talking about dieting the French way, mentioning the French woman who wrote the new book "French Women Don't Get Fat." I began telling them about her theory about leek soup. I suppose there's a recipe in her book, but basically you boil leeks in water. *argh* Then she goes on to say that three or four times a year we should set aside a weekend and eat nothing but leek soup. She wants us to sip on this lovely essence of leeks broth for 48 hours, and allow nothing else to pass our lips. This is suppose to cleanse our systems. (No kidding!)

Well, Patsy and I said no way were we going to sip on the equivalent of liquid leeks for 48 hours, but Bec, from her position of prominence on the sofa, after careful consideration and with a perfectly serious expression on her face, said, "Well, I'd rather get a colostical." (blink, blink) Patsy and I, speechless for a second, stared at her, and finally I asked, "A co-los-ti-cal? What the heck is a colostical?" She said, "You know, one of those enemas where they suck everything out of you." I still had a blank look on my face when Patsy piped up and said, "Oh, you mean a colonic." Laughter reigned, and reigned and reigned. There were tears and snorting. Patsy and I could not stop laughing.

I've finally decided that Bec is on to something. Maybe she has come up with something new and original that will be all the rage soon. A colostical may be a super duper, colossal, colonic irrigation, a new and improved colonic irrigation that makes the original look like nothing more than the morning after a night of bad Mexican food.

Bec, let us know when you decide to do this. We want to hear all about it. One thing for sure, I know you'll be clean as a whistle. Liquefied and purified! A new and better Bec. Those French women's colons will have nothing on yours. Be proud!